Silence hung over the table like a wet cloak. Cora sighed and withdrew her hands. Once again, their brainstorming session had become an exploration of her life. Why did Van continuously turn the discussion to her? They had articles to write. Besides, there wasn’t enough conversation in the world to unravel her tangled emotions. Guilt and regret were the least of her issues.
She patted Van’s arm. “Look. I know you mean well, but I’d rather get back to work.” She grinned. “Unless you have a more intriguing topic, let’s address school closures and the impact the war has had on the education of the world’s children.”
He stared at her for a long moment then sent her a curt nod. “We can include the flip side by talking about their being forced to mature earlier than normal because of their exposure to loss, death, privation, and the other ills this war has poured over its inhabitants.”
“Growing up before they should. Tragic, isn’t it?” Warren, the small child from the orphanage sprang to mind. Lord, when will this war cease? Please protect Your children. “The end of the article should include resources for parents and grandparents.”
“An excellent idea.” He turned his notepad to a fresh sheet and drew two lines down the page creating three columns. With a flourish he labeled the left column School Closures, the middle column Alternatives, and the right column Life’s Lessons.” Eyebrows raised, he glanced at her. “Sound about right?”
“Sadly, yes.” She nibbled on the end of her pencil then scribbled notes under each of the headings. On her own pad, she listed agencies and resources that might help with the research aspect of the story. “You want to divide and conquer or visit these places together?”
“Together. We make a great pair. You think of questions I don’t, and vice versa. And your intuition about people is spot on, especially when they’re not being forthcoming.”
She’d never tire of his encouragement and positive words about her skills. What did that say about her? She wanted to be independent, yet she clung to his compliments as if they were a lifeline. Was she no different than any other woman who needed a man to feel complete?
“If you’ll prioritize the list of contacts, I’ll set up the appointments.” She smirked. “Unless, you want to use your male charm to get a foot in the door.”
Van flushed but gave her a sly smile. “Hardly. You’re a clever girl and can handle the calls just fine.” He jotted more notes on the page then slid the pad toward her.
She added more words then pushed the notebook his way and watched as he scrawled down a few more words. She loved the routine they’d worked out, pushing the page back and forth like a tennis match. Their creativity fed off each other’s, ideas flowing faster and faster then building until they merged into a cohesive plan. She was a better writer because of Van. Would she be able to write an article on her own?
Time passed, and the feint and thrust with the sheet of paper slowed until the well of ideas ran dry.
He sat back and tossed his pencil on the table. “Good session.” He cocked his head, his expression teasing. “Maybe working with a partner isn’t all bad. I’ve done some of my best stories with you.”
Her heart swelled, and she reprimanded herself. Really, Cora. A few kind words, and you becoming a simpering fool. She rubbed her hands on her skirt and winked. Since when did she wink? “Maybe. The jury is still out.”
With a chuckle, he closed the book. “I’m beat. How about grabbing some dinner then calling it a night? We can get a jump on the article tomorrow. What are you in the mood to eat?”
“As if we had a choice? I’ll have whatever they’re serving at the White Stag.”
“Will we ever take food for granted again?” He rose and grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair, holding it up so she could slip her arms inside. He stroked her shoulder then gestured for the door. “Shall we?”
“We shall.”
They made their way out of the building and ambled down the sidewalk toward the pub. Shoved by the crowd of pedestrians, Cora moved closer to Van. He pulled her hand through the crook of his elbow then wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pressing her to his side. The warmth of his hip seeped through her jacket. Or was she imagining the heat of his body?
She stumbled, and he gripped her tighter. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, sorry. Must pay better attention.” She forced a smile. “Or maybe I’m faint with hunger.”
His concerned expression turned to one of amusement. “Then it’s a good thing we’ve arrived.” He led her into the dim interior of their favorite place to eat.
A young woman with dark hair scraped into a lopsided ponytail jerked her head to the vacant table in the corner. “Seat yerself. I’ll be with ya in a moment.”
Van lifted his hand in greeting. “Take your time.”
Voice mingled with the clink of silverware on stoneware. The greasy aroma of fried fish hung in the air. Cora wrinkled her nose. “Guess we know what’s on the menu.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Hand on her back, he guided Cora through the pub to their table. She shivered at his touch. He pulled a chair out, and she flopped onto the hard seat.
He lowered himself next to her and leaned close, his aftershave enveloping her. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have come while the work shifts were changing.”
“The change of scenery will do us good, even with all the noise.”
“What’ll it be, luv?” The waitress stood next to Van, a cheeky smile on her face. “Fish with chips or without?”
“Two orders with. And two cups of tea.”
“Nothing from the bar?” The woman put her hands on her hips, eyebrows dancing. “That won’t make for much of a night.”
“Maybe next time. My lady friend and I are in search of a quiet meal.”
Tucking her pencil behind her ear, the woman flicked a glance at Cora. “Suit yerself.” With a swish of her skirt, she whirled and strode toward the kitchen.
“Another brokenhearted woman, Van. Can’t you see she was pining for you?” Cora giggled, glad to focus on Van and the girl.
“Yeah, I’m sure she’s going to cry herself to sleep tonight. I’m pretty sure she’s just looking for a good tip.” He chuckled. “Enough about her…I used to love to go fishing, and I’d catch my fill of blue gill and bigmouth buffalo. After this is all over, I’m not sure I’ll ever look another fish in the eye.”
“Bigmouth buffalo is a fish? What a name.” She shuddered. “My dad tried to teach us girls how to fish, but Emily’s the only one with a penchant for it. Three hours of boredom followed by two minutes of wrestling with a slimy creature. No thanks.”
“Fish aren’t sli—” He shook his head. “What do you like to do?”
“You’ll laugh.”
He held up two fingers, then three. “No, I won’t. Scout's honor.”
“Yeah. Okay, a perfect afternoon for me is being curled up in my mother’s wingback chair next to the window, with classical music playing on the Victrola and a Jane Austen book in my hands.”
“My grandmother would agree with you.” His eyes clouded.
She reached over and squeezed his arm. “You’ll see her again.”
“I hope so.” He cleared his throat. “She and Grandpop aren’t getting any younger.”
A guffaw punctuated the hum of conversation, then a shrill voice exclaimed, “You’re such a scamp.”
Cora cringed. She’d know that tone anywhere. Myrtle was here. With hundreds…no…thousands of pubs in London, she’d found her way into the White Stag. How long before she began to work the room and find her and Van?
“Well, Cora Strealer, what a coincidence finding you and Mr. Toppel. I was going to look you up at Broadcasting House.”
With a deep breath, Cora pivoted in her chair. Did the woman have radar? “Hello, Myrtle.” Overdressed as usual, she wore a bright yellow dress with a wide patent-leather belt cinched at her waist. A tiny yellow hat sat at a jaunty angle on her head. In a plain gray sweater and charcoal skirt, Cora felt like a wren next to a peacock.
Van nodded at Myrtle, his eyes narrow. “Now you don’t have to.”
“Aren’t you going to invite me to join you?”
“No, but thanks for asking.”
Her eyes widened, and Cora stifled a laugh. Van seemed unmoved by her charms, and if she was reading the reporter correctly, she wasn’t sure how to react.
“Fine. But hear me out. I’ve notified your editor about your inappropriate relationship, and he seemed none too happy about it. There will be ramifications. You can count on it.”
Cora’s heart sped up, and she gaped at Myrtle. “How dare you. You’ve done some despicable things before, but to claim we’re acting improperly is low, even for you. You had no right.”
Myrtle sneered at her. “It’s my duty to ensure my fellow correspondents are adhering to our code of conduct.”
“I—”
“Ta ta.” With a flip of her wrist, Myrtle waved and threaded her way through the tables and out the door.
“Van, what are we going to do?” Cora’s pulse pounded. Everything she’d worked for gone in an instant because of a lie. “I could be fired for this.”
“She’s out of line. We’re not doing anything wrong. Please, don’t worry. I will fix this.” He ran his finger along her jaw, then sent her a brash smile. “Remember, I’m Superman.”
Her chest tight, she forced a smile. “As long as you’re not mistaken for Clark Kent.”